


Hours dreadful and things strange

by chick_with_wifi



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Horror, Body Horror, F/F, Ghosts, Psychological Horror, Supernatural Elements, haunted boarding school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 10:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13715730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chick_with_wifi/pseuds/chick_with_wifi
Summary: Root’s breath hitched in her throat and she turned to look at Shaw, her face a mixture of fear and astonishment. “You’ve seen them too?”





	Hours dreadful and things strange

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings: graphic description of blood, almost drowning, self harm, mentions of death

“Parties not your thing?”

 

Shaw spun around, searching for the owner of the voice that had come from behind her. It was a girl of about the same age of her, leaning against the wall with her arms folded across her chest and surveying the room.

 

“I wouldn’t call it a party,” Shaw replied.

 

“Then what would you call it?”

 

“Bunch of boarding school students getting drunk in someone’s room after curfew? I’d call that a bad idea.”

 

The girl smiled, then tilted her head to the side to give Shaw a curious once-over. “Then why are you here?”

 

Shaw shrugged. She didn’t particularly want to be there, but it was where all her friends were hanging out so she didn’t mind. “Chance to see John get drunk and make a fool of himself is as good a reason to be here as any. Last time we played truth or dare, he picked dare and had to gargle the alphabet. It was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”

 

The girl laughed, but trailed off when she caught sight of something over Shaw’s shoulder. A commotion was coming from the middle of the room and Shaw turned to look at where everyone was sitting in a circle on the floor between John and Lionel’s beds. 

 

Apparently, Leon had just been dared to chug as many cans of beer as he could in one minute. Everyone was counting down as he drained his can and opened a second one. If the look on his face was anything to go by, he wasn't enjoying it at all but was determined to do it.

 

“Three...two...one!”

 

Leon threw down his can and took a deep breath, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “How’d I do?” he panted.

 

“You did great,” John said as he clapped Leon on the shoulder. Then he picked one of the cans up off the floor and crushed it against his thigh before tossing it into the trash can without even looking.

 

When he glanced up out of the corner of his eye to check if Zoe had been watching, Shaw just shook her head. If her best friend felt the need to act like a jock to impress some girl, that wasn’t her problem.

 

Zoe was clearly into him, anyway. All night long she had been sneaking glances at him while he wasn’t looking. And Shaw had known Zoe long enough to know exactly what that meant. 

 

Plus, gossip spread like wildfire at Thornhill boarding school so it wouldn’t be long before they were the talk of the school. Which was kind of expected considering all the students practically lived on top of one another.

 

Most of the school was what used to be a family-owned manor house, but when the entire family perished in a fire a few years ago it was bought by a rich company who rebuilt it and turned it into a boarding school. The rest of the rooms were a repurposed barn. The school grounds also technically included the lake, but nobody ever went there. 

 

Once the friends got bored of truth or dare, it was approaching midnight so Lionel began kicking everyone out.

 

“We have class tomorrow,” he reminded them. “Mr Greer is already on the warpath after we lost that soccer game last week; if we start falling asleep in his class it might give him a nervous breakdown. Or just end in all of us getting detention. Either way, that isn’t something we want.”

 

Once people began to leave, John came over to Shaw. “What are you doing standing over here by yourself?”

 

“I’m not, I was talking to…” she trailed off as she realised the girl was no longer next to her. She pivoted on her heel and scanned the room, but there was no sign of the girl she had spoken to nor any possible place she could have gone. “Weird.”

 

“You gonna head back?” he asked, seemingly unperturbed by the disappearing girl. He had the ability to take just about everything in his stride, as did Shaw, which was one of the reasons they got along so well.

 

Shaw nodded. “Yeah. It’s getting kinda late.”

 

He walked her over to the door and nodded her off as she left the room. Then suddenly said, “Hold on.”

 

Shaw stopped dead in her tracks, turning back to look at him. 

 

“What’s this?” He knelt down and picked up a photo frame that was lying face down on the floor.

 

“I must’ve knocked it off the sideboard or something,” Shaw said slowly. The building was filled with mysterious old relics such as ornaments and paintings, most of which had belonged to the family that died in the fire. They had been in the undamaged part of the building and, since nobody had ever come to claim them, they just stayed there. 

 

John handed it to Shaw and she set it on the low cabinet by the wall. As she did, she noticed what it was a picture of. A girl almost identical to the one Shaw had spoken to earlier, and there was a jagged crack in the glass that ran across her face.

 

-

 

The séance was Zoe’s idea. Apparently she had been reading up on ways to communicate with people in realms beyond. And old places like this, places where people had died, were the perfect location for it.

 

If you asked Shaw, there were plenty of creepy things going on here without adding an Ouija board to the mix. She’d been having a weird feeling since she arrived, like she was being watched. She would swear she’d seen something in the corner of her eye, but when she turned to look properly there was nothing there.

 

She’d thought about telling someone, but she didn’t want them to think she was losing it. She wasn’t scared of ghosts, she wasn’t scared of anything for that matter, but there was definitely something strange going on at Thornhill and it was almost certainly something supernatural. Shaw made a point of not believing in superstition, but ever since her dad passed she’d been noticing more and more unexplainable happenings. 

 

That’s why she agreed to the séance. To see if there really were unexplained phenomena taking place. If somebody else saw it too, she’d at least be able to talk about it.

 

So Zoe, John, Shaw and one of their friends who Shaw knew in passing whose name was Root, set the date for the séance on a night when there was a full moon.

 

That was when the lines between the world of the dead and the living were at their weakest, according to an article Zoe had read online.

 

Technically, they weren’t supposed to be meeting up at night and they especially shouldn't be out of their rooms after a hall monitor caught one of their parties the previous week, but they figured they wouldn’t get caught.

 

None of the staff ever checked the old dining hall. Most of the students never ventured there after dark either. There were rumours about that room. Which was what made it the perfect location for what they were about to do. 

 

The four of them were sitting around the dining table. Zoe had set up the Ouija board in the middle, lit by the ancient chandelier hanging above them.

 

This board was the real deal. Shaw could feel it. The same feeling she got when she saw things moving in the walls, a cold tingle in the back of her neck. 

 

Zoe cleared her throat loudly and waited until she had everyone’s attention before speaking. “Friends, we are gathered here today to communicate with the great beyond.”

 

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Root said. She didn’t look afraid, but the slight quiver in her voice begged to differ. “I mean, we don’t know what we’re dealing with here.”

 

“Are you scared, Root?” Zoe asked her in a mocking tone.

 

She shook her head. “I’m not scared, just cautious.”

 

Her words made Shaw turn to look at her. If she was so apprehensive then why was she here? Could it be for the same reason as Shaw?

 

“Your concern has been noted. Any other objections?” Zoe was particularly fond of a good dramatic X-factor pause, and after a few seconds had passed she carried on. “No? Alright then. John and I will put our fingers on the planchette. Shaw, you write down the letters it points to.”

 

Zoe and John each placed a finger on the small device above the board. Then Zoe began to speak in a low voice, reading aloud from a printout. As soon as she had finished, the planchette began moving.

 

It went slowly at first and Shaw diligently wrote down the letters. Y-O-U. Then it began to gain speed, moving so quickly John and Zoe had to sit up in their chairs just to keep up.

 

Shaw attempted to keep track of the letters best she could. Above her head, the chandelier began to swing. But there was no breeze, the room didn’t even have any windows. She had a bad feeling about this. 

 

Shaw glanced at Root, who was biting her lower lip and stretching one hand towards the board as if she wanted to do something to stop what was happening.

 

Suddenly, the planchette sped from one corner of the board to the other and nearly threw Zoe out of her chair in the process. Yet she didn’t even seem to notice. Her eyes were half closed and she seemed to be in some sort of trance.

 

A creaking sound came from above them and the lights flickered. Shaw had just enough time to share a worried look with Root before the chandelier came crashing down.

 

Shaw was thrown backwards as her chair flipped over, and hit the ground with a smack. She tried to sit up, but she was so disorientated she couldn’t even work out which way was up. Her ears were ringing and there were several centuries worth of dust in the air which made her cough and rub her eyes.

 

As her vision adjusted to the sudden dark and the air began to clear, she tried to get a look at what sort of state the room was in.

 

“Everyone who's not dead say ow,” John called out. There was a collective groan from the three girls, followed by a scuffle as he fished a box of matches out of his pocket and lit one.

 

The small pool of light was enough to see that the table was still standing, albeit with a dent the size of a chandelier in the middle of it. As for the chandelier, it was mostly intact aside from the crystal decorations which were laying broken shards on the floor. The Ouija board had been completely shattered.

 

Shaw stood up then helped Root to her feet, checking her over to make sure she wasn’t hurt.

 

A light breeze nudged the piece of paper she’d been writing on and it fluttered off the table. Shaw picked it up and John held the match over it so she could read.

 

“What does it say?” Zoe asked as she approached them.

 

“It says ‘you are being watched’,” Shaw read aloud. The temperature in the room seemed to drop by a few degrees as she spoke. A heavy silence settled over them as nobody knew what to say.

 

Sudden knocking on the door cut through the silence and made them jump. Shaw couldn’t resist a glance at the Ouija board, instantly suspicious of where the noise could be coming from.

 

“Open this door right this instant!” came the voice of Mr Finch, muffled by the thick wood.

 

“But I was sure the door is open?” Root whispered. Shaw could only shrug in response. She wasn’t sure of anything any more.

 

John slowly walked over to the door and turned the key in the lock.

 

“What in tarnation was that?” Mr Finch threw open the door and came marching into the dining hall, brandishing a flashlight in front of him like a weapon. “What the - how the hell did you kids manage to pull down that chandelier?”

 

“We didn’t pull it down, it fell,” explained Zoe. Root and John both nodded emphatically.

 

“I find that hard to believe,” Mr Finch said. He aimed his flashlight at the ceiling and tilted his head back to look at the remains of the light fixture as he debated the logistics of it possibly having fallen down. “Either way, you lot are in serious trouble. Now go to your rooms. We’ll decide what’s to be done in the morning.”

 

Root wasn’t paying attention to Mr Finch. She couldn’t stop staring at the broken Ouija board. She could hear it humming, calling to her. Voices like whispers in the wind.

 

There was something strange about this school, and not just the scary teachers and copious amounts of underage drinking.

 

Shaw turned to say something to Mr Finch, her long dark ponytail whipping against her hip. Root stared at the ponytail, watching as it wound itself up, curling in on itself. A shiny black snake rearing its head and hissing at her, ready to strike.

 

Root closed her eyes, took a breath and counted to ten. When she opened them again, Shaw’s ponytail was just hair and Shaw was giving her a concerned look.

 

“You ok?” Shaw asked her quietly as they followed Mr Finch into the hallway. He and John went one way to the boys’ dormitories while the girls went the other way.

 

“I’m fine,” Root replied, even though her hands were shaking.

 

Zoe’s room was one of the first, so she said wished Root and Shaw a good night before retiring.

 

Root reached the door of her room a minute later, but she paused with her hand on the door handle. She didn’t want to go in just yet. Her brain was still buzzing with theories about what could have caused the chandelier to fall.

 

“That séance was something else, huh,” Shaw said. She must have noticed Root’s hesitation and decided to make conversation.

 

“Yeah,” Root said without turning around.

 

“To be honest, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Kinda figured it would just be us telling ghost stories, like the one about the three ghosts on the lake.”

 

Root’s breath hitched in her throat and she turned to look at Shaw, her face a mixture of fear and astonishment. “You’ve seen them too?”

 

-

 

John and Shaw used to go jogging every morning in the nearby wood. They would start at the entrance to the repurposed barn and make a circuit of the grounds without getting too close to the lake. It was the only real exercise they got considering there was no gym or sports field nearby, so that became their routine.

 

Until the morning after the séance.

 

Zoe and Root had wanted to come with them, Shaw suspected it was because they wanted an excuse to watch her and John work out. So when John initially started acting strangely she put it down as him just being nervous and wanting to impress Zoe.

 

He was staring straight ahead and jogging mechanically, his breaths slow and even. Shaw looked up at him and snapped her fingers in front of her face. When he didn’t respond, she knew something was up.

 

Zoe and Root were a few feet behind them, but caught up as soon as Shaw waved them over. Shaw stopped running and tried to position herself in front of John so he would be forced to stop as well, but he just swerved past her and continued walking without even acknowledging her presence.

 

“He’s in a trance,” Shaw said, grabbing his arm and digging her nails into it to see if she could snap him out of it. He didn’t respond in any way and kept walking.

 

“What do we do?” Zoe asked. Helplessly, she looked to Shaw for advice.

 

But Shaw had no advice to give. This wasn’t exactly the sort of situation they taught you about at Thornhill. If they wanted her to use an equation to work out how long it would take John to cover the ground between here and the lake if he continued walking at his current speed, _that_ she could do. But for this she was clueless.

 

Root rolled up her sleeves and attempted to grab John and sumo wrestle him to the ground, but he just swung one arm out and threw her to the side. She skidded backwards and slammed down to the ground.

 

“Root,” Shaw gasped, falling to her knees next to her. “Are you ok?”

 

“I’m fine, Shaw,” Root replied, shrugging off the hand Shaw had placed on her arm. She climbed unsteadily to her feet and lost her balance, almost falling over again. But Shaw caught her and guided her over to a nearby tree stump.

 

Root sat and ran a hand through her hair. “What are we going to do about John?”

 

“I don’t know.” Shaw shook her head sadly, then looked up sharply. “Root…” she began nervously. “Look at the trees. I swear they weren’t like this a second ago.”

 

Root scanned their surroundings and Shaw waited for her response, afraid that Root would confirm what she already thought. “It’s different. Somehow.” She stood and walked over to where Zoe had been seconds earlier. “We’ve moved. Or they have. We should look for a landmark.”

 

They turned around, searching for anything that could lead them out of the wood.

 

“This way,” Root said. She pointed towards a tree with a patch of moss growing on it in the shape of a square. “We’d recognise that if we saw it again, right?”

 

“Yeah.” They set off walking and passed the tree, but two steps later they found themselves back in the clearing with the tree in front of them again.

 

Beyond them, in the trees somewhere, they heard the sound of children’s laughter. It was as though the wood was playing tricks on them and enjoying it.

 

“Again?” Root asked, indicating with her head to the tree.

 

“Again,” Shaw confirmed. They walked slower that time, trying to keep track of their surroundings. But the same thing just happened again.

 

They tried walking backwards to try and confuse the wood, they tried walking with their eyes closed, they tried everything they could think of but nothing worked.They were beginning to consider the horrible reality that they might never make it out of that clearing.

 

“I’m starting to think we might not see them again,” Root said. “This place is definitely trying to seperate us.”

 

“Divide and conquer,” Shaw said grimly. “It’s trying to pick us off one by one.”

 

Root walked up to her and took her hand, interlacing their fingers. “It won’t divide us.” When she looked at Shaw, her facial expression was equal parts determined and gentle.

 

A split second later, Zoe came crashing through the trees behind them. She ran up to them, out of breath and hair falling into her face. She looked more dishevelled than Shaw had ever seen her and it was rather disconcerting.

 

“Shaw!” she gasped as she came to a stop, doubling over and resting her hands on her thighs as she caught her breath. “Shaw, Root….John just walked into the lake.”

 

“He what?” Shaw was already jogging towards the water’s edge (which had appeared along with Zoe) before Zoe had even had chance to respond.

 

Shaw reached the lake and a second later Zoe and Root caught her up.

 

“He’s there,” said Zoe, pointing to a spot a couple of feet in.

 

“What happened?” Root asked. She was keeping to the trees, staying as far away from the lake as she could while still being able to watch what was happening. 

 

Zoe shook her head. “I’m not sure exactly. He was still in a trance when he went in, but when the water reached his waist he came back to himself. He was so scared and tried to get back to land but he slipped and fell and there was this...this thing that dragged him under and…” She gave up on speaking and settled for making distressed hand gestures.

 

“Dammit.” Shaw took off her clothes and threw them into a messy pile on a tree stump. Just wearing her underwear, she scanned the lake for any sign of John then waded into the water. “He shouldn’t have reached the whirlpool yet. If he does, though, then it’s game over.”

 

It was absolutely freezing and she started shivering right away. When the water was up to her waist, she splashed her face a few times to get her body used to the temperature then took a deep breath and dove in.

 

There was no current, so it only took a few powerful strokes for her to reach where she guessed John would be. She attempted to open her eyes, but the water was dark and murky so she couldn’t make much out.

 

She reached the bottom of the lake and skimmed along until she made out the outline of a person. John. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pushed off from the bottom with her foot.

 

Her lungs were beginning to burn and strain for air. She kicked her legs frantically but something jerked her back down again. Surely it couldn’t be John; he did weigh considerably more than her, but in the water that shouldn’t matter.

 

She attempted to readjust her grip to get a better hold on him, but she felt something wrapped around his arm. It felt like a tentacle.

 

After a second, she was beginning to get light headed from lack of oxygen, so she decided to take a breath and come back for him. She swam up to the surface and sucked in as much oxygen as possible, then dove back down and located John again. 

 

She took hold of his arm with one hand and used the other to try and dislodge the tentacle. It came away easier than she was expecting, and she took hold of him by the waist and pulled.

 

They were almost at the surface when something wrapped around Shaw’s leg and started dragging her down. She kicked at it with her other leg and struggled against it as hard as she could. It yanked her down and she let out an involuntary breath which bubbled out of her mouth.

 

Bad idea. She was desperate for another breath and fought against every instinct she possessed. She thought about letting John go and using both her hands to free herself, but she knew that he needed to get to the surface even more than she did.

 

Back on shore, Root felt sick with worry. “She should be back by now, Zoe.”

 

“I know,” Zoe said. Even in the dark, Root could see how pale she was.

 

Shaw and John were in danger. That alone was enough to make Root ignore the ghosts on the lake. Even though she couldn’t see them at that time she could still sense them. That was when she realised what she had to do.

 

“I’m going after them,” she told Zoe as she began taking off her boots.

 

“Are you out of your mind?” Zoe demanded.

 

Root paused what she was doing to roll her eyes and look over her shoulder at Zoe. “Since when is that relevant?”

 

That was enough to make Zoe deflate. She sat down hard on the tree stump and buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault, I should never have let him come here.” She started sobbing.

 

“Not to be unsympathetic, but do you think you could do that later?” Root said. “I kinda need your help.”

 

Zoe looked up at Root, revealing her tearstained face and pitiful expression. “My help?”

 

“Yeah. Here.” She handed Zoe her shirt, which she had rolled up so it resembled a piece of rope. “I need you to tie this to my jeans, here, then you see me come above the water, throw one end to me and keep hold of the other. Then I need you to pull me to shore, ok?”

 

Zoe nodded and began crumpling and uncrumpling the shirt in her hands. “Ok.”

 

Root gave her a quick thumbs up then dove into the water before she could wimp out. She located her friends quickly, and took hold of one of Shaw’s hands.

 

Shaw was still conscious, barely, and holding onto John with a death grip. There was a tentacle of some sort wrapped around one of her legs, but Root was able to tug her free. Then she pulled them to the surface and waved to Zoe.

 

She grabbed the end of the makeshift rope and Zoe pulled them back to shore. The three of them collapsed onto the bank. Root caught her breath while Shaw coughed up a lungful of filthy lake water.

 

John, who was somehow still conscious, spat out some water, then groaned. “That was...an experience.”

 

“Root that was amazing,” Zoe said breathlessly.

 

“Oh it was nothing. Sameen did all the hard work.”

 

From where she was sitting, Shaw let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a cough. “You’re damn right I did all the hard work. You have any idea how much John weighs?”

 

“Hey,” John protested. “Don’t pick on the guy who nearly drowned.”

 

Shaw scoffed. “Oh please, we all nearly drowned. Also I think the Loch Ness Monster might have gotten tired of bonny Scotland.”

 

“What?” Zoe looked mildly horrified.

 

“Yeah there’s a sea monster of some sort in the lake,” Root said. She leaned towards Shaw and added, “I think it might be the kraken.”

 

“It’s not the kraken, Root,” Shaw said tiredly.

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“Can we please go back to the part where there’s a sea monster in the lake,” Zoe declared in a shrill voice. She was dangerously close to hysterics. “It’s a bit much to take in for one night.”

 

“And that’s without even mentioning the ghosts,” Root said.

 

“The what now?”

 

“Ghosts. On the lake. Three of them. Potentially more inside the building, but I haven’t seen them myself.”

 

“Three of them,” Zoe echoed. “Like how the three of you just nearly drowned?”

 

“I hadn’t even realised,” Root whispered. She looked back out across the lake, but she couldn’t see the ghosts. She could hear them, though. Their laughter, almost identical to what she’d heard back in the clearing.

 

“We should get back,” Shaw said. “Take a shower and get all this lake gunk off us. And vow to never, ever come back here again.”

 

-

 

Root switched off the shower and stepped onto the mat on the floor, then gathered her hair and squeezed out the excess moisture.

 

As the humid steam began to dissipate, Root realised for the first time how cold it was. The frigid air raised goosebumps on her bare arms, so she tried to rub some warmth back into them as she wrapped herself in the towel.

 

She went over to the sink to get a second towel to wrap her hair in, but noticed something in the mirror. At first she thought it was just a spot of toothpaste or something, but then realised it wasn’t that at all.

 

It was a letter, traced with a finger on the fogged up glass.

 

She wanted to blink, to prove to herself that it wasn’t really there, but she was unable to tear her eyes away.

 

A second letter slowly appeared, followed by another and another until an entire name had been written out.

 

Root shuddered, feeling as though an icy finger was tracing its way down her spine. Because she recognised that name. But she hadn’t heard it in years. There was no way anybody could know it….could they?

 

She stared at the writing on the mirror until her eyes began to sting and she couldn’t resist the urge to blink any longer. But the split second her eyes closed, she was overwhelmed with the sudden feeling that she wasn’t alone and a wave of fear unlike anything she had ever experienced before washed over her.

 

Quickly, she scanned the room and backed up until her back was pressing against the cold tile of the wall. But she couldn’t make much out in the steam, nor could she hear anything over the sound of running water. 

 

Wait. She had turned off the shower. Hadn’t she?

 

Movement in the mirror caught her eye again. It was the same two words, being written again.

 

“How do you know that name?” she tried to say, but her voice wouldn’t go above a whisper.

 

No reply came. Part of Root wanted to dismiss the entire encounter as a figment of her imagination, but she knew better than that.

 

She had felt things like this before, ever since the night when she was a kid when she woke up and felt the weight of someone sitting on the end of her bed. She’d opened her eyes and saw the outline of a child, watching her. She’d wanted to scream, but no sound came out.

 

She didn’t tell anybody, of course. Nobody would have believed her. So she kept it to herself, even when her visions began to escalate. After she came to Thornhill, everything got so much worse. She could feel it all. She could _see_ it all. The ghosts on the lake, the shapes coming out of the walls.

 

And now the name on the mirror. _Hanna Frey_.

 

Root’s first vision had been on the night of her death. She hadn’t known that at the time, though. It wasn’t until the next morning that she found out Hanna had never made it home that night.

 

She looked at the writing on the mirror until she couldn’t bear to look at it any longer. Then she put her hand to the glass and tried to wipe it away, but it didn’t work. It was still there, mocking her.

 

So she slammed her palm into the mirror until it shattered, a shard slicing open her palm in the process. She gasped in pain and closed her hand into a fist.

 

Drops of blood splattered onto the white shower mat, creating a pattern almost identical to the wallpaper in the hallway.

 

She leaned over the sink and switched on the faucet, attempting to wash the blood off her injured hand. It didn’t work; no matter how hard she scrubbed it wouldn’t come out, as if it had stained her skin.

 

A cold breeze blew her hair into her face and she brushed it back with her hand, then drops of water saturated with blood slid down her cheek. The sight of it made her gag and her legs gave out underneath her. She crumpled to the ground and rested her head on her knees, trying to block everything out.

 

That was when the knocking started. Quiet at first, getting louder and louder until she was surprised the ground wasn’t shaking from the sheer force of it.

 

Something was trying to get in. Root knew if she looked up she would see the door rattling in its frame. She didn’t dare look up.

 

Whatever it was, she just wanted - no, needed - it to go away.

 

For a brief second, the knocking stopped and Root let out a relieved breath. It was over.

 

Until the handle began to turn. She heard the familiar grating of metal on metal, then the click of the locking mechanism opening.

 

“No no no no no,” Root whispered. This was worse, this was so much worse. Whatever had been knocking was about to enter the room. She didn’t dare move, believing if she kept still enough they might not notice her.

 

Footsteps. Approaching her.

 

She squeezed her eyes shut so tightly she began to see swirling coloured shapes. But nothing happened. Until she heard the screaming.

 

She had no idea where it was coming from, but it was loud and harsh and pained. She reached up to cover her ears in an attempt to block it out, but then she realised she could only hear it in her right ear, her deaf ear.

 

There had been nothing but silence on that side of her since the accident all those years ago. She tried pressing her hand to it but if anything that just made the screaming louder.

 

No longer caring about what she might see, she opened her eyes. The room was still filled with steam, although it had thinned enough for her to be able to see the scratch marks on the door.

 

Desperately, she cast about searching for anything she could use to stop this. The screaming was so loud it felt as though her skull was vibrating.

 

Her hand closed around a shard of glass from the mirror, slick with blood and water. She lifted it up to her ear and felt for her scar. Then she dug the shard into her skin and dragged it down.

 

The pain was nearly unbearable and made her hands shake. When she had finished the job, she could no longer hear the screaming.

 

She dropped the shard and it clattered onto the tiled floor. Then she leant her head back and closed her eyes.

 

Shaw came into Root’s room about an hour later and found Root in the bathroom. She was sitting on the floor, soaking wet and wrapped in a towel.

 

Her eyes were closed and she was visibly shivering. Shaw knelt next to her and shook her shoulder roughly. “Root, wake up!” she said as loudly as she dared, not wanting to risk being overheard.

 

Root opened her eyes blearily, blinking against the overhead light. “Sameen,” she mumbled. “The blood.”

 

“The what?” Shaw asked, really hoping she hadn’t heard Root correctly.

 

“Blood,” Root said again. She looked down at herself in confusion, examining her bare arms. “There was so much blood. I was covered in it. And the mirror.” She sat up quickly and pushed Shaw back so she could see the mirror.

 

“The mirror is fine,” Shaw said slowly. She followed Root’s gaze to where it hung on the wall, perfectly intact.

 

“No, it wasn’t fine. There was writing on it and it was broken and there was knocking and screaming and -” Root’s voice trailed off into a sob and she buried her face in Shaw’s chest.

 

Root was shaking, but whether it was because she was cold and still wet from the shower or something else Shaw couldn’t tell. She wrapped one of her arms around Root’s back and drew her closer so they were hugging properly.

 

“It’s ok,” Shaw said. “It’s ok, we’ll get through this.”

 

She felt Root relax slightly at her words. Quietly, Root said, “I don’t know what’s going on here.”

 

“Do you think it might have something to do with the family who died in the fire?” Shaw speculated aloud. 

 

“Only one way to find out.” Root’s voice is small, but determined.

 

-

 

They went up to the attic two days later. It was where the possessions of the original owners were being stored, or so they had been told.

 

After curfew, Root and Shaw climbed the spiral staircase by the light of a flashlight. The steps were covered in a thick layer of dust and, unlike the rest of the building, they were carpeted. The wallpaper there was different as well.

 

The hallway leading to the dormitories was covered in faded cream paper patterned with red flowers, but wallpaper on the top floor was grey and covered in a pattern that looked suspiciously like bats. The banister was oak and worn smooth from years of hands tracing along it. 

 

By the third flight of stairs, Root was beginning to get tired. “How much further can these stairs go? We’ll be ending up on the roof at this rate.”

 

“It can’t be much further,” Shaw said. “In fact, I think it...stops right here. Ok then.”

 

They had reached a dead end. There were no more stairs, but the wall in front of them looked completely solid.

 

Root frowned. “Do you think it could be the house playing tricks on us? Because, I mean, why else would somebody bother making a staircase that doesn’t lead anywhere.”

 

Instead of replying, Shaw played the beam of her flashlight over the wall. When it reached the top corner, she noticed something. A corner of wallpaper was beginning to peel off.

 

She reached up and gave it a tug. It came away without any resistance and revealed something built into the wall. A door.

 

“I don’t think you should be doing that,” Root cautioned. “Is that what I think it is?”

 

“If you think it’s a door then yeah,” Shaw said. “If you think it’s an assembly of singing aardvarks then I can’t help you there.”

 

“I don’t think it - why would I think it’s an assembly of singing whatever-you-saids?”

 

Shaw shrugged. “You tell me.”

 

Root decided to pretend the last two minutes of her life never happened and brought her attention back to the matter at hand. “Are you going to open it?”

 

“I’d say that’s a fairly safe hypothesis, yeah.” Shaw pulled back the rest of the wallpaper and gently pushed the door opened. It was in need of a good oiling, but otherwise functional.

 

The attic was dark and musty. Shaw scanned for anything resembling an overhead light, but unfortunately it was a few centuries too old for that.

 

Using their phones as flashlights, the two of them began investigating. Ten minutes later they had found old diaries, newspaper clippings and legal documents, and they were beginning to piece together the story of what had happened all those years ago. 

 

They had learned the following: the house was owned by a rich family with one daughter, who was engaged to be married to an equally rich young man, but there was a fire the night before their wedding and it never actually took place. It was reported in the local newspaper that there were no survivors. 

 

Years later second rich family bought the house, but claimed that it was haunted by the vengeful spirit of the dead bride. They believed that her husband-to-be jilted her the night before their wedding and so she set fire to the house as revenge, but accidentally locked herself in and perished along with him.

 

“That...makes sense, I guess,” Root said. “But it doesn’t explain the ghosts on the lake.”

 

“Or does it,” Shaw said. “Look here, the original family had four children and the bride was the oldest. The three younger siblings also died in the fire, but maybe their spirits are haunting the lake instead, since it is technically part of the grounds.”

 

“You think they have unfinished business and that’s why they are haunting this place?” Root asked.

 

“I’m no expert but yeah that’s what I think,” Shaw said.

 

Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind them. The pair jumped and looked towards the door, but there was nothing there.

 

The temperature in the attic dropped and Root and Shaw positioned themselves so they were back to back, so they could keep an eye on all of the room. A breeze began to pick up and whipped their hair around their faces.

 

“What do you want from us?” Shaw demanded. There was no reply.

 

Then the knocking started. Three sharp raps in quick succession.

 

“Uh, Sameen,” Root began. “Is it just me or are the walls closing in?”

 

“I’m afraid it’s just you, Root,” Shaw replied. She glanced behind her to check that the wall in front of Root wasn’t really moving, and it didn’t seem to be.

 

“Ok good to know,” Root said in a false cheerful voice. “And I don’t suppose you can see the writing in the mirror either?”

 

“Root, I can’t even see the mirror.” Shaw looked around and couldn’t see a reflective surface of any kind. “Wait - is it the same writing as what you saw in the bathroom?”

 

“Yes,” Root said. “It says ‘you are being watched’. Same as the planchette. Whoever this is they really want to communicate with us.”

 

The knocking commenced again, louder and even more insistent than the previous time. And instead of stopping, it got louder and louder until the house was shaking in its foundations. The two of them lost their balance and ended up on the ground.

 

Root was gasping for air and clutching at her head. “Make it stop,” she pleaded, unsure of who she was talking to. “Please.”

 

When the knocking sound seemed to morph into footsteps, Root automatically reached for Shaw’s hand and interlaced their fingers just like she did by the lake.

 

And everything stopped. The knocking, the shaking, the wind. The room was as calm as the sea after a violent storm.

 

Root and Shaw took a moment to process everything that had happened, then looked down at their joined hands. 

 

For the first time since their arrival, neither of them felt a mysterious presence lingering just beyond their understanding.


End file.
